Fixing last two Stashes… and random thoughts about Michael Jackson

Well, of course our server hosts would move our FTP access to a new server over the weekend when I am going to be completely without computer access!  As you probably know by now, you can’t download / listen to my last two Daily Audio Stashes because of this server move, since I uploaded the Stash to the old location.  Then I headed off to the Mtn. High Camping Weekend where I had cell phone connection, but no computer connection.  Thus, I got to read all your emails on my Crackberry saying “Where’s the Stash?!?” but I had no way to fix the problems.

I’m working right now to fix the problems.  In the meantime, I’ve gotten a few comments about Michael Jackson and his apparent Demerol addiction.  First off, I know about Demerol; my wife is a medical marijuana patient for migraines.  Before we moved to Oregon, when we lived in Idaho, the only thing that would cure her migraine is a shot of Demerol at the emergency room (she is allergic to just about every NSAID and every other opioid).  After the shot, she’d have to take two days off work because the Demerol would turn her into a puddle of drool.

Reports are saying Michael Jackson was getting daily shots of Demerol.  I don’t know how he even functioned.

I’m reading people’s comments saying, “If Michael used medical marijuana instead of pharmaceutical painkillers, he’d be alive.”  Personally, I don’t like to engage in that sort of speculation.  Medical marijuana isn’t for everyone and who knows what advice Michael’s doctors gave him.  Maybe he’s allergic to cannabis (some people are).  His medical treatment is his own business.  Plus, I’m not so certain that Michael’s religious beliefs would have tolerated marijuana use.

Michael’s use of painkillers didn’t necessarily need to lead to his death, either; it may have just been his time.  But when a person achieves the demigod celebrity status he achieved, it is hard to get reliable, honest, agenda-free advice.  Michael says he hurts, Michael’s done dance moves all his life, what doctor’s going to deny his requests?  Even if he did, there are ten other doctors lived up for that Dangerous Bad Thriller money who will give him whatever he wants.  He gets addicted, he wants more, doctors say yes, so he must figure it is OK.

Then think about living life as Michael Jackson.  Imagine that every time you leave your home, someone points a strobe light in your face (that’s what the dozen of paparazzi flashes must look like at the center).  You’ve messed up your face with too much plastic surgery.  People you thought were your friends accuse you of terrible things in court.  You’ve been working since you were four.  You’ve never found true love.  You’re fifty and trying to compete in music and dance against twenty-somethings.  You can’t take your kids on a simple walk on the beach.  You’ve mismanaged your money to the point of bankruptcy.  And the pain, the daily pain, from so many twists and turns and kicks and spins.

I, too, wish Michael Jackson had been using marijuana instead of Demerol and that he was still alive and about to come back with a new album and tour.  I don’t know if that alone would have saved him, though.